


Taken

by Cryostasis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Meihem - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryostasis/pseuds/Cryostasis
Summary: [AU] Junkertown has gone to hell and there are a few well known gangs lingering. The two most known are the gang who follow the Queen of Junkertown and then the famed duo Junkrat and Roadhog. They find the climatologist Mei-Ling Zhou being held hostage by the Queen's goons after her trip to Australia took a horrendous turn, and she needs urgent help.[Trigger warning for 'rape'; this will NOT be written graphically in any way shape or form, it is purely in part of a conversation later on but I felt it better to warn than leave out.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Archive warnings are for later themes and will be noted in the beginning of each chapter.  
> Apologies the first chapter is short, I'm very unsure on what I've written so if anyone wants to leave feedback that'd be lovely!

“You got any three’s?”

“… No.” the blonde junker grumbled as he slunk back in his chair and eyed the woman opposite him over his one remaining card.

“Don’t you lie to me, boy!” she yelled in response before pulling the rolled newspaper from the empty table beside her and slapping the card from his hand, catching it easily in mid-air to reveal a three of diamonds.  
Laughter by the old woman filled the otherwise quiet room joined by a groan from the youth who had lost the game for the fourth time in a row.

“You’re a cheat, Sheila! I know it!”

Junkrat was never good at losing especially when it was something so menial as a children’s card game. He knew that there was no way for the woman to cheat at something so simple which was proven when he cowered once more after the accusation.

“Don’t be ridiculous… I bet your big friend there would do better at this than you. How about it, Mako?” the woman flashed a grin toward the larger junker who towered over the table in his simple stance of sitting. A small grunt came from Mako who eyed the card on the table through the dark lenses of his mask and then returned to silence.

“Riiight! You played this before, ay, Roadie? Says it’s easy to win a- hey, I am not an idiot, ya dipstick!”

The woman’s laughter filled the room once more as she listened to the pair “converse” between insults and grunts, not paying much mind to what was being said by Junkrat as she shuffled the cards into a neat deck and hummed thoughtfully.

Junkrat, Roadhog and the elderly woman by the name of Alma or ‘Mama Bayou’ as locals would call her were sitting in one of the lesser known bars of Junkertown. The bar was a small cellar under an abandoned garage that had been destroyed years before.  
Wooden floorboards stained with blood, beer and who knows what other liquids, scratched from broken bottles and bar stools, badly painted dark blue walls with badly hung pictures at strange angles and the odd lopsided shelf which held nothing but empty beer bottles. The place was dusty and filthy, the air filled with smoke and had very few lights working which helped the dreary atmosphere.  
It wasn’t much but to some of the locals it was everything.

“Ay, Sheila, now here’s the deal… We said last week about a little favour and—”

A simple glance from Alma cut the junker off as she glared in his direction and her hands paused from shuffling the cards. Alma was an overweight elderly woman with greying curled hair, a floral dress that had seen better days and dark skin with a million and one scars that each told their own tale. She wasn’t much of a junker and everyone knew that but considering she had been around Junkertown for decades not many cared whether she looked the part or not, she was family, even if she was from Louisiana.

“Jamison, I told you already. The answer is absolutely not.” she responded in a stern tone which caused Junkrat to groan loudly, he hated when she used his real name especially in front of people in the bar.

“C’mon! All we need is an engine and we’ll be outta here to—”

“To rule the world, I’ve heard it all before… And like you’ve heard before you’ve got nothing that I want in return. Get me something I want, and I’ll think on it, now hold your hands out for these cards…”

Alma’s relationship with Jamison and Mako was a relatively strange one, it started years before when there was next to no order in Junkertown just before the Queen cast the pair out for their usual criminal activity. They had been wandering the scrapyard with nothing to their name to trade for what they required and got into trouble which almost got them killed. The gang that had tried to kill the pair were Alma’s sons and their friends, but she was quick to stop them, seeing if she could make use of the pair. And there forward, with them working alongside her it was easy enough to see a relationship forming and soon enough Jamison and Mako were part of the family.  
They would do each other favours in the form of trades; particularly scrap metal, information about locals in Junkertown and on the odd occasion drugs. Such plants that could be harvested for drugs were easy enough to come by in Junkertown and so that offer was less interesting unless you were an outsider.

As the cards were dealt and their game had begun there was a commotion across the room where the barman had begun to raise his voice at the large group entering. A crudely modded gun was pulled from the pocket of a man who was built just as big as Roadhog and standing just as tall, tattoos covering his entire body from the neck downwards. The room was quick to fall to silence once more aside the sound of chairs scraping and bottles resting upon tables as the barman had failed to stand his ground to the gang, eyeing them suspiciously as they began to take up most of the small bar area.

“Tch… Fuckin’ hate them lot…” Junkrat grumbled as he looked away from the group with a scowl, eyes back onto his cards as he and Alma played their game of ‘Go Fish’ once more. “Nicked me wheels last week is what they did, can’t keep to ‘emselves…”

“Twenty-three years…” Alma whispered as she stared at that group with a concerned expression.

“Eh? Twenty-three? There ain’t twenty-three in this deck, Sheila, the fuck you playin’ at?!”

“Would you shut up and look?” the elderly woman growled as she grabbed Jamison’s pointed chin and turned his face toward the gang again, quickly letting go afterwards and staring toward the group sitting at the far end of the bar with a girl who looked incredibly out of place.

The gang were dressed in shirts clearly made for someone else and entirely out of their price range, suit jackets that were modded with studs, badges, badly painted skulls and various other motifs. Sleeves ripped off to show tattooed muscled arms with the odd blooded bandage here and there or wounds just healing over.  
Amongst the group was the girl who stood completely out of place from the tanned junkers; a small Chinese woman with hair neatly tied back and eyed downcast to the floor as she politely declined the alcohol repeatedly offered by the gang leader. She wore a tight black dress which showed every curve of her and a matching jacket to the leader, one with a large skull painted across the back and blue flames as a boarder to the skull, badly drawn dynamite dotted around the sleeves and front.

“Hooley dooley…” the blonde said under his breath as he eyed the woman across the room, only able to tear his eyes away as Alma caught his attention with her speech once more.

“I know her, and she’s no junker… She’s a long way from China.” Alma started to explain with a frown on her lips and brows furrowed, eyes unable to tear away from the subject of conversation. “Her family had some business partners here when she was young… Way back when you could walk the streets without having your throat slit in broad daylight. Mei-Ling Zhou…”

There was a pause from the white-haired woman as she caught the eyes of the woman in question across the room, the pair staring helplessly at one another in a tormenting silence and longing to be able to speak, but it was a useless wish. Within moments the looks across the room were noticed, and Mei was being scolded for such actions in eyeing anyone who wasn’t part of the gang. Despite them both praying for a way for conversation they both knew their prayers would go unheard, although they were in the same room they might as well have been on separate planets. There would be no negotiations nor conversation between them, not whilst the men Mei was with stood in the way.

“Jamison… You want that engine…?” Alma questioned as she eyed the bright-eyed junker and grabbed his hands in hers, holding them firmly with a look of desperation. “You get me that girl… You bring her back to me and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Eh? The fuck you want her for? She’s just—” he was cut off by Alma tugging him across the table til their noses almost touched, staring him in the eyes and pleading with him.

“Bring her back to me. Help her.”


	2. Chapter 2

Junkrat couldn’t take his eyes off the woman across the room, he remained sat still eyeing her like a vulture waiting to fly to its prey. Every time one of the Queen’s goons moved in his way he made an effort to move and crane his neck to view the woman once more, he couldn’t be more obvious in watching her if he tried.  
As one of the men moved to block the Junker’s vision of the woman, he moved to the point he was practically sitting on Roadhog’s lap and only settled back into his seat when the larger man slapped him upside the head.

“Oi!” Jamison yelled in retaliation with a glare as he rubbed the sore patch of his head where he had been struck. “What’s your problem ya drongo?”  
Roadhog responded with a simple grunt before eyeing Alma again and listening as she too tried her best to keep a watchful eye on Mei.

“A very long time ago her family would visit Australia on a monthly basis. They were nice, polite, grew accustomed to the way of life in Australia and even looked to move here had it not been for Mei’s schooling.” Alma explained in a hushed tone before slowly looking from the brunette girl to Junkrat again. Her sad expression was enough to tell him how much this ‘Mei-Ling Zhou’ meant to her.  
“She and her young cousins became childhood friends with my sons until one year she stopped visiting with her parents, my boys were distraught that the little Chinese girl who would tell them the tales of the sky was too busy to play anymore. The last I heard, before everything went to hell, was that she went to one of the best schools in Xi’an and made her parents proud.”

“Psssh, so basically she’s just another fuckin’ suit…” Jamison commented as he lifted his bottle of beer, flinching when Alma cast him such a glare that even Roadhog recoiled.

“She’s no suit and she’s no Junker. You want that engine to get away from Junkertown? I’ve got a truck to go with it… That heist you always talk about getting back to? I can make it happen. You help me, and I’ll help you.” Alma eyed Jamison and allowed a moment of silence between them before extending a hand toward him, her green eyes never leaving his shining amber. “Do we have a deal?”

Jamison swallowed heavily and watched as the hand of the older woman opposite extended toward him. She only ever struck a deal with someone when she meant serious business and he had only ever seen her do that twice before. Once when her son was at death’s door and another when she needed a man hunted down when her sons were too unwell. Mama Bayou meant business.

“A’right Sheila…” he whispered, extending his own human hand to meet hers and still not blinking as their deal was set with the simply shake of a hand. “How we gonna do this?”

“I have an idea.” Alma said quietly as she gripped his hand firmly.

 

* * *

 

 

Across the room there was laughter and the smashing of bottles which caused the owner of the bar to distract himself by repeatedly cleaning the same glass for five minutes straight. His face was red with anger at how the group were destroying the bar and making a horrendous mess but being in the position he was with how small a say he had in the matter he simply remained quiet.  
The leader of the gang had his arm wrapped tightly around Mei’s waist in a protective manner, glaring at any member who got too close to her or even tried to speak to her. It simply wasn’t allowed. She sat close beside him on the torn leather booth in the corner of the run-down bar, a booth normally reserved for the older residents of Junkertown or those seeking rest after the strenuous day. The bartender knew how to treat people which was partly the reason he had so many regulars, some people still gave a damn about others in the Outback.

“We need to give her a note somehow…” Alma grumbled as she pulled her tattered brown leather handbag from the seat beside her and slung it onto the table, rummaging through it like a madwoman looking for a fifty-dollar bill. After enough searching she pulled a pen from her bag and grabbed the closest card from the deck to her, a three of hearts.

“Oi, don’t use that. Use a joker or me deck will be all whack.” Jamison said as he went to grab the card, looking up at Mako who slapped his hand away immediately. Casting the larger Junker a look of disgust the scrawny man folded both arms across his chest and watched the woman scribbled away, drawing various lines and odd-looking shapes.

After a good five minutes of silence between the trio Alma finally raised her head to look over the scribble she seemed to have been working so hard on. There wasn’t very much on there, in fact there was barely anything at all or that was what it looked like to the Junker’s opposite her.  
On the white of the card to the left of the three of hearts was some crudely drawn lines which threatened to dig through the card where Alma had concentrated and pressed so hard in drawing them. She showed it to the pair before placing another card on top of it, this time a King of spades again to Jamison’s annoyance and slid it into the pocket of on the front her dress.

“If I can still write Chinese then hopefully she’ll know what to do but that means we don’t have much time…” Alma spoke in a hushed tone.

“And if you can’t write Chinese then she’s fucked an’ gonna wonder what drugs you’re on, or you’ve probably insulted her chickens—” Jamison was cut off when Alma grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close to her in the same manner as before but this time with Roadhog leaning in too.

Alma glanced over the scrawny Junker’s shoulder before leaning down to the pair again and continuing her hushed tone. The woman was a mastermind when it came to plans and everyone knew that she wasn’t to be trusted unless she felt she could trust you first. Her name was Mama Bayou for the fact her sons were more than just junkers, they were bounty hunters and the deaths of their victims were slow and painful. At the back of her home lay a small river very much like the bayou by her home in Louisiana but filled with chemicals than water. Anyone who fell victim to her would be lead to a slow death of being tortured then have their face held under the flowing liquids of the shallow ‘river’. They would lay on their backs and watch as they sky as they drown, the chemicals being so clear and shallow that they were able to see they were mere inches from being able to breathe but given no opportunity. Mama Bayou was feared and everyone in Junkertown did well to ensure they did not face her wrath, but even she knew she couldn’t face the Junkertown Queen’s goons alone. She was known as an illegal trader but also the woman who could bring a man to his death in harsh methods, she was feared and that’s what got you through the Outback alive.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom and leave this card in there and hopefully she’ll get the notion to go in there. She must want some form of privacy even if it’s just momentarily…” the woman explained as she took the remaining cards from the table and idly shuffled the deck in a nervous manner.

“A’right, and if one of them drongos goes in there first?” Jamison questioned and jabbed a thumb back toward the group.

The greying woman peered over the man’s bony shoulder once more to ensure they hadn’t been watching or anyone listening in and held up the pen she had used before, then shoving it into her bag again. “How many Junker’s do you know that can read Chinese, boy?”

Jamison went to respond with a ‘witty’ joke before he was jabbed in the side by Roadhog and immediately took that as a hint to keep his mouth shut, something the scrawnier man often struggled to do.

“So, what’s the plan? Violence is usually the answer…” Mako finally chimed in with that low growl of a voice and Alma couldn’t help but crack a small grin at those words. He and Jamison knew her far too well and there was a sudden sparkle in those amber eyes which only made Jamison’s grin seem more menacing, if that were possible. A shrill giggle came from the man as he eyed his frag launcher that was so neatly propped up in the corner beside their table, he knew what was going to happen and it excited him like his birthday and Christmas had come at once.

“I’ll place the card in the bathroom where she’ll hopefully see it… She reads it and she’ll take it with her which is when I go and ask for the card back. The card I didn’t write on will stick to the first, so those idiots won’t suspect a thing if they can’t see writing on it…” Alma continued to explain in her hushed tone before she was cut off by Junkrat who was far too eager to get to the end of the story.

“Yeah, yeah. An’ when the fuck are we killin’ ‘em?” he tried to say as quietly as possible as he practically clawed at the table with anticipation.

“When Mei attempts to run to us and is held back by one of the gang members it will give us a clear shot of the gang leader. And then you know what you have to do.”

Jamison’s face lit up like the star on top of a Christmas tree, the shrill giggling filling their corner of the room as his leg and peg-leg bounced one after the other with excitement.  
“Sheila, if ya weren’t all wrinkled as a roo’s ball sack I’d kiss ya. You know how to make a Junker happy.” he spoke with a bright grin which didn’t fade even as both Alma and Mako hit him around the head one after the other, his shrill giggling filling their corner once again.

With the plan set in place Alma rose from her seat and steadily walked toward to where someone had crudely engraved ‘toilet’ into a wooden door. Her feet shuffled slowly along the floor as she made her way but was caught by surprise when a large hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder to stop her in her tracks. One of the Queen’s idiotic goons who stood as tall as Junkrat had stopped her outside of the door and was glaring down at her like a menacing animal on prey that just wouldn’t die.

“It’s occupied, Shiela, piss off.” he growled even though Alma could clearly see by the lock on the door that it was unoccupied, that was until she glanced to his side to see Mei standing there with a forlorn expression. The pair stared at each other for a moment before the voice of the man accompanying Mei spoke up again. “She’s usin’ it first.”

“No.” Mei said quite suddenly, the only thing Alma and likely anyone else had heard from her since the arrival. Although the young woman recoiled at the man who stared daggers she continued to speak and rested a hand on his arm as if she was trying to reassure him. “Please, allow her to go first… I can wait.”

There was tension in the air as the pair waited for the escort to decide, and just as he went to respond with what was likely to be a no, Alma decided to speak first with a dangerous expression of her own.

“You wouldn’t want this little old lady to have an accident and embarrass herself in public because you didn’t let her use the restroom now, would you?” she questioned, eyeing the man as the grin on her lips slowly grew to what could only be described as the look of a villain seconds before the kill. “After all, Mama Bayou knows you, Noah…”

And as if by sudden grasp of reality, the man known as ‘Noah’ to Alma recoiled and clenched his jaw at the sight of her, his entire body tensing from the defeat and shame that he was brought down so quickly. Not another word needed to be said between the pair as the elderly woman’s grin faded to a sickly-sweet smile which she cast to Mei and a simple nod of thanks before entering the bathroom to go about her ‘business’.

The bathroom was evidently shared between men and women but with the stench of beer and body odour it was more used by male Junker’s. The only women that ever entered those toilets were prostitutes who were taking advantage of the locals for a quick job but even they wore perfume to  
mask the stench of their own lingering body odour, and other than that it was only Alma who too wore a perfume to mask her lack of being able to bathe all that often.  
It wasn’t a nice-looking bathroom in the slightest, in fact the bar looked in much better shape that the small room that could barely be pass for somewhere even an animal could do their business.  
The hot tap of the sink had been ripped off long ago, a crudely driven in piece of metal that had rusted in it’s place and a cold tap that barely dripped anymore. The toilet seat was being held on with masking tape which meant it was stained with urine and who knows what other kind of bodily fluids, toilet roll ripped and slung over the floor and a toilet brush that might as well have come from the sewer. The walls were patchy green mixed with a black with slime, a tiny window just as patchy and a tiny light overhead that flickered every now and again.

Slipping the two cards from her pocket and holding them in each hand, Alma slowly looked around the small room for somewhere to put them. On the toilet seat would be obvious but who on earth would want to touch that with their hands let alone even let their ass touch it? The same went for the long ago broken hand dryer that was now being used as a stand for extra toilet roll, it was in just a disgusting a shape with the grime and dust layering on it. Her only real option was, as first anticipated, the mirror. Although it was beyond cleaning with countless smudges of finger prints, lipstick marks and what could easily be splatters of dried blood among other fluids, it was the best she could do with the limited time.  
Alma jabbed at the inner edges of the frame of the mirror where there was a small enough gap to slip the first card in, the three of hearts, only an inch or so of the card actually fitting but it definitely wasn’t going anywhere without someone taking it. She then took the second card, the King of spades, and slid that into the opposite side with hopes that Mei would understand what she had written so badly on the card. It was her only hope for rescuing her that night without obvious suspicion from the gang that sat across the room from her usual table, and so she stood in the bathroom silently praying to any God’s that were willing to listen to her. Mama Bayou was a killer but first and foremost she was a mother, Mei mattered to her and she would do well to see her to safety one way or another.

Both hands clasped together in front of her face as she prayed with eyes closed and lips moving with each word in her thoughts. Alma begged for forgiveness of her sins first before begging for the safety of Mei, the same she would do every night before bed to beg for the safety of her sons and thus far, the God’s hadn’t failed her faith in them.  
There was suddenly a loud banging on the door which caused the woman’s eyes to flicker open and eye her blurred reflection. She slowly exhaled as though to flush out the anger before reaching to the makeshift toilet handle that had been badly made from a few small pipes and flushing, though the lack of water didn’t do much for the amount of sludge that was already lingering in there.

Alma tread toward the door and swung it open with the hopes to hit the gang member in the face but was secretly disappointed when he wasn’t standing close enough to be hit. The greying woman cast a sweet smile to the man and another nod in thanks to Mei, leaving the door open for the girl to enter. The elderly woman walked back to the table with the pair of Junker’s who seemed to be bored out of their minds like waiting for a woman who had gone shopping.

The scrawniest of the three looked toward the toilet door which had only just closed with the towering man standing in front of it like a guard dog then looked forward to Alma who had taken her seat opposite them once more, eyes still bright with anticipation.

“Now what, Shiela? Boom?” Jamison questioned in the same hushed tone as she had been using before.

“We wait…” Alma uttered quietly in almost a whisper as her eyes locked with the gang leader across the room, their stares going straight through everyone who was even slightly in their vision and neither of them daring to take eyes off of each other. They were both dangers in Junkertown and the entire of Australia knew that they were not to be toyed with, but no one knew that better than they knew it of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments so far, hopefully this makes up for the shortness of the previous chapter. Enjoy!


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